Confessions of a Grandma

I finished the knitted pillow that I was working on.  It is done in Shepards wool from New Zealand.  The pattern is from the first knitting book I ever bought, I Can’t Believe I’m KNITTING! (Leisure Arts, INC,, 1997, Little Rock AR). We recently had a letter from Mile’s friend who now lives in Christchurch, New Zealand.  When we visited, he was living in Auckland on the North Island.  His hobby was restoration of old motorcycles (the Mike connection) and other old motor vehicles.  His wife’s avocation and main interest was in restoration of old homes.  They had several and were finally able to buy a grand home that was on the historic register and they moved to Christchurch on the South Island of New Zealand.  2011 was not kind to NZ and Christchurch suffered a great deal of damage.  Our friends’ place was heavily damaged and they have not been able to do any restoration because the earthquakes and aftershocks have continued at an unrelenting ...

I have experienced a few minor earthquakes.  One time I was pulling into our driveway and my then husband came running out of the house because he thought the jolt was from me smashing into the garage.  I was not even aware of the quake that time.  Another time I was still in bed when the cat came racing into the room, jumped up on the bed and stood on my head looking out the window.  Within seconds, the house shook and the cat was in a tailspin screaming, "I didn't do it!" Just last December, I was watching some TV and Mike was standing nearby when I felt the chair vibrating.  "We're having an earthquake," I announced, but Mike had not felt a thing.  We did have a small quake, by the way. I sincerely hope that is the extent of my earthquake experience. We have been watching the news of the quake in New Zealand yesterday.  This, and the one in September, have been no minor hiccups, no slight adjustments of the earth's crust like the quakes I have ...

The Communion of Silence Silence, with sails double reefed, Creeps into shoal water. A hand touches another. Two heads turn. One winks. The other smiles. Silence, with all sails rigged, Beats out of shoal water. A glance points homeward; A hand spins the wheel. Later, the sea, in ungentle waves, Tries to beguile them. Neither notice. Carl Potter ***** It's National Poetry Month, April. For several years now, our small town library has hosted a workshop with a University of Vermont professor/poet who lives in town. I joined the group this year. Carl, one of my writing buddies, also joined and shared this poem with the group. He has a very romantic sensibility. He was nice enough to let me post his poem here. I had been thinking about my experience with the sounds of silence and now I have the little push I needed to sit down and write about it. * **** Mike and I have had been fortunate in our opportunities to travel around various parts of the United States, and we have had some gre...